My name is Deidara
by Henpuku-Hime
Summary: Deidara looks back at the one moment where he saw something in Itachi's eyes. Slight one-sided Itadei, you could see the tiniest bit of Itasasu-can also be seen as brotherly love- One-shot. I don't own anything.


My name is Deidara. I'm not really any special; I'm just one of the thousands whom really, really hates Uchiha Itachi.

I'm an Akatsuki member, but not voluntarily. You see, I take a lot of pride in my ninja-techniques, as they are art. I create the most beautiful clay figures, which later on explode. Art is a bang after all. When I was sixteen years old, three members of Akatsuki came to me. I was already a criminal, but I didn't want anyone to be my boss. The idea of joining an organization was disgusting to me.

Among those three was Uchiha Itachi.

He humiliated me. He crushed my art, threatened my life and forced me to join. I can't stand those eyes of his. The way he fights it's…it's…No, I'm not going to say it. I refuse to call it art. My way of fighting is art. Not his.

I hate those arrogant eyes of his, looking at me and the entire world as if we're not worth anything. As if were nothing but scum, surrounding him, the best, the best there always was.

Disgusting.

Worst of all, it attracted me. It was a morbidly fascinating thing; one might even call it beautiful.

I barely spoke to him, until one day, we clashed.

He was just walking by, not even bothering to look at me. And when he did, just as he passed me, I regretted it. The look he gave me shook me to the core. Empty. As if he was looking at a bug. I wasn't interesting him not even a bit. Uncaring, cold and disdainful.

Before I knew it, we had crashed to the ground, me sitting on top of him, straddling him, one hand covering those dangerous eyes and the other one in his hair, gripping the black locks tightly.

I was panting heavily, and noticed tears dripping out of the corners of my eyes. Shit. My teacher had always said I should have better control over my emotions. What the hell was I gonna do now? But I was too angry to let go. You can't imagine how much pleasure it gave me to see that; physically, I was stronger. Even if I was pretty small-built myself. When I couldn't see his eyes it was as if I was just holding down a tiny, fragile child.

I waited till he was going to react, say something, move, do anything. His heart didn't even skip a single beat when I suddenly lunged at him. I actually doubt he wasn't able to evade me; the asshole had probably been too lazy to do so.

I was growing kind of nervous, I don't know how much time had passed, but it seemed like a century. Why wasn't he doing anything? Was I that fucking insignificant? Wasn't I even worth a fucking reaction?

Angered beyond reason, I let go of his hair, and pulled my hand away from his face, which I could see now.

He wore the same expression he always did, sprawled out underneath me like a doll. Uncaring, cold and disdainful.

Something inside of me cracked, and my hands closed around his throat, tighter and tighter, tears running down my heated face.

Itachi's expression did not change.

The only change was that he stopped breathing after a while, his skin becoming a strange mix of white and blue, yet still as beautiful as ever. Like one of those ancient princesses, their skin so white you can see the veins.

"Do…you…hate…me?"

It took me a while to realize Itachi had just talked. I don't think he had ever talked to me before. His voice was hoarse from the lack of air, and sounded rusty, as if it had been unused for a long time. But the tone was… as if he found it slightly funny. As if some kind of joke only he knew was hidden in the sentence.

My grip loosened, as I watched him in fascination.

"I don't care… Ninja's live… their lives… hated by others… It's just the way it is."

He looked directly at me, and for the first time I could see clearly through those eyes. There was warmth, and pain, and sadness. Unimaginable sadness. It shocked me.

"You…remind me of someone…"

Back then, I didn't knew what he meant. Right now, I do.

His eyes frightened me. Those eyes, which at the moment showed so much emotions, scared me. There was too much. Too much depth, too much love, too much pain, too much sadness- and none of it was directed towards me.

My hands released his throat and I bolted, dashing through the halls, not daring to look back at the pale ghost-like figure on the ground.

I never saw Itachi alive again.

And I didn't see him when he was dead either. That idea frightened me. Seeing someone like Itachi, crushed, defeated and dead…No, I wouldn't be able to handle that.

Now, I know why he reacted like he did. After I met the brat and fought him myself, I understand what he meant, and why I reminded him of his brother. Yes, I reminded Itachi of Sasuke.

Perhaps the reason I hated Itachi so much is the same as Sasuke's.

Maybe I just hated him because I really loved him, adored him, and felt neglected. Betrayed. Frustrated.

Perhaps I really thought his eyes were art, and maybe that's why I couldn't just ignore him. Not that anyone could ignore Itachi.

I think that's the reason everyone hated Itachi, They all wanted to have him, but couldn't. Yeah. I think everyone just loved him too much. In their own way, that is, but they did.

Sasuke loved him, and the idiot hated him, for he didn't know he was the only one who had every bit of Itachi, whom basically owned him.

And I loved him. Yeah. I loved him.

We were all like planets, radiating around our dark-haired sun. Desire, need, love, lust…everyone had his own way, but we all felt it. And so we all hated him. God how much we hated him. Because we didn't want to feel the way we did. Because we wanted it to be mutual. Because we loved him.

And now he's dead. And I can't help but feel angry. And empty. Hollow.

Fuck. I really do hate Uchiha's.


End file.
